A Catholic Blog
A priest writing reflections on theology, philosophy, and Catholicism. I'll occasionaly write movie reviews, rants, and discussion topics. I write from my experiences, personal and intellectual, for my benefit and yours (should you get any from it). None of what I write is official or representative of my diocese or parish, just my semi-public attempt at figuring things out and sharing it with you for the sake of dialogue.

Thursday, June 19, 2014

Theology of Suffering

When I was a teenager and with the Boy Scouts (i.e., Venture Scouts) I
went to Manatoba, Canada to do a Northern Tier trek, a canoeing
expedition. We arrived at a small town with a population of about 90. We
got on a little puddle-jumper plane, they flew us over the beautiful
landscape, and dropped us off in the middle of a lake. We told them
where we planned to be in 10 days and off we went. About two days into
the trip we were going along a river with high reeds on either side. We
stopped and discussed our path at a fork in the road: take a 2-mile
detour by canoe or portage through a wet area. Our guide told us that
the portage would be about “a third of a mile” and the water would be
“maybe up to your knees.” Needless to say neither of these things were
the case. The portage may have been one of the most miserable
experiences I've had. Mud, water that was at times up to my hips, hidden
branches that tripped me, caught me, and at one point could have cased
me to drown. I was at best 150 pounds and was carrying at least 35-40
pounds of equipment plus heavy, wet clothes. Some three hours later,
after a lot of cursing and frustration, we made our destination with
still a lot of travel left in our day.

This situation captures
the feelings I have towards a theology of suffering. Indeed, from a
distance things may seem simple and we can reassure ourselves about the
probable course of suffering, at least until we get there. I consider
the looming task before me as I begin CPE (Clinical Pastoral Education)
where every seminarian spends a summer intensive at a hospital doing
hospital chaplaincy. Therein we are spiritual care providers to anyone
and everyone. Here we may confront traumatized patients, broken
families, and frustrated staff members. Any theology is informed by
experience and yet suffering is surprisingly one of our weakest
theologies. While it is true that we all suffer and have experienced
the suffering of others it also seems to be the case that we attempt to
distract ourselves from the ultimate reality that suffering reveals:
death.

It is hard to accept that suffering is natural despite it
being perhaps the most natural things of all. Suffering in a very
profound way helps us to understand the Cross but it is not enough to
speak in moral platitudes or theological maxims. Indeed, Christians
receive the whole repertoire of “God will not leave you” or “God is with
you.” There is likewise the common and, in my opinion, misguided phrase
“offer it up” comes up frequently. However true these sentiments may
seem, I have found that in my own experience they alienate rather than
alleviate. Certainly some complaints and problems are minor and are
annoyances to others—being a complainer myself I know all too well it
can wear on people. Yet sometimes minor problems reveal something
deeper, namely our struggle with suffering, death, and our perception of
what we “deserve” in this life. I call to mind those famous words

My
soul is full of troubles … I am reckoned like those who go down to the
pit … like the slain that lie in the grave … your wrath lays heavy upon,
and you overwhelm me with all your waves. … Every day I call to you, O
Lord; I spread out my hands to you. … O Lord why do you cast me off? Why
do you hide your face from me? … Your wrath has swept over me; your
dread assaults destroy me. They surround me like a flood all day long;
they close in upon me together. You have caused loved one and friend to
shun me; my only companion is darkness” (cf. Ps 88).

And,
moreover, “My God, my God, why have you abandoned me?” (Mt 27:46).
Indeed this very quote of Jesus is from Psalm 22. While verses 22-31
speak of God's faithfulness, His glory, and how he lifts up the
afflicted. Nevertheless we have to get through the first twenty one
verses. Suffering can be reduced to something superficial, where minor
injuries aren't that important, and where feelings of hopelessness are
addressed by telling someone to have hope.

The Incarnation is a
theology that includes the Cross. “Incarnation” makes us think of Christ
sharing in our humanity, but what has he shared in? In the hospital
“incarnation” and “cross” have met: blood, broken bones, hopelessness,
fear, pain, defecation, a loss of control, abandonment, betrayal,
schism, and waiting in silence. As a chaplain it would seem like we're
sent into this circumstance and situation to life people out of this
mire but in a strange we we are not asked to lift up but step down into
it. In that strange and wonderful way we, by sinking into the depths we
also lift to the heights. Why? Because by acknowledging suffering,
experiencing it, and by experiencing it with others we do lift each
other up. Perhaps this is why the phrase “Duc in altum” (Lk 5:4) can
both mean “go into the depths” and “go to the heights.”

No one
catches fish without first casting your line to the depth they swim at.
We don't experience the Resurrection if we don't experience the Cross.
Christ can not redeem all unless he had sunken lower than all.

It would seem strange
that in a place of death or, at the very least, a place entrenched in
its inescapable realities I might find life. Most of all I'm called to
love these people and consider their life, counted by the world as
pitiable and worthless, with a sort of divine dignity. May the Son who
died for all give us all life, even if we have to walk through the muck
first.